Take my hand, precious lord
by thekeeperofwords
Summary: A songfic following Sirius after his death, and Hermione several years after Hogwarts, when she is stricken with illness. It shows the effects of tragedy on people's lives. In dedication to breast cancer victims. please rr


Disclaimer: I did not write "Precious Lord, Take My Hand" nor do I own Harry Potter.

A/n: I got home today and my mom asked me to download a song on Kazaa. I told her I would sometime today, but she insisted that I did it then, because she wanted to make sure she liked it. It had to be perfect, because it was for the funeral of her dying friend. As I sat here and listened to the music, and this idea came to me. But more importantly, an emotion welled up inside of me. So when you read this, please pray for all the women out there with breast cancer, women dying before they are ready, women who have to leave family and friends behind too early.

This is a story about two people, in bold is Hermione, regular is Sirius. The one about Hermione is post Hogwarts, and Sirius's is from the end of OoTP.

Precious Lord, Take My Hand:

__

**Hermione Granger sipped her tea slowly, letting the steam from the hot drink relax her face and clear away the red blotches of recent tears. She could prepare herself for this. She could handle it.**

Sirius sat up in a dark room, not realizing for several moments what had happened. Harry's shouts echoed around him, yelling for him. The man stood, daintily rubbing his chest. He stood, undecided. At last his pain and torment was over, but so were his days with Harry, because he was dead. He had to be.

Precious Lord, take my hand,  
Lead me on, let me stand,  
I am tired, I am weak, I am worn;  
Through the storm, through the night,  
Lead me on to the light

****

Ron burst into the room.

"Hermione, Ginny said you had news," He said, gasping for breath. Obviously he had run quite a distance.

She bit her bottom lip hesitantly. One of the one-year old twins started to wake in the room next door. "Ron, there are some muggle things that can happen to muggle-born witches," she chose her words carefully. "And, well…One of those things happened to me."

Sirius wandered around in the darkness for hours, often stopping to listen closer for the echoes that seemed to follow him. He wondered what the wizarding world would do without him. Probably rejoice, knowing them. _Except for people in the Order_, he thought. Oh, why couldn't he be there with them?

Take my hand, precious Lord,  
Lead me home.

****

"Cancer?" Ron choked. "What does cancer do?" He held her hand tightly, rubbing his thumb against her palm.

She sniffed and drew a courageous breath. "It means," she whispered, "that I won't be able to see Hattie and Colton's second birthday. It means that they'll go to school, and I won't be there to see them off." She looked down. "Just you."

Finally Sirius saw a light up ahead. He ran towards it, desperate for any sign of life, anything other than this lonely emptiness. As he grew nearer, voices started to sound around him. Voices of him and James and Remus in their youth, voices from James's and Lily's wedding, Harry's voice. And then the light was on him. The voices stopped.

__

When my way grows drear,  
Precious Lord, linger near,  
When my life is almost gone,  
Hear my cry, hear my call,  
Hold my hand lest I fall

**"You're not going away," Ron croaked. Harry stood somberly behind him, hands clasped limply in front of him. "You've got your whole life in front of you--"**

"No, Ron," she breathed. "Don't make this harder."

Take my hand, precious Lord,  
Lead me home.

Sirius lay down in the grass, still not sure where he was. But he missed Harry. And the hardest thing was, he would never see him again.

When the darkness appears  
And the night draws near,  
And the day is past and gone,  
At the river I stand,  
Guide my feet, hold my hand

**Hermione smiled at her baby's sweet face. Colton smiled, giggling happily. There was a knock on the door.**

"'Mione?" Harry called. "There are some people here to see you."

Hermione shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. "No visitors," she replied, knowing that she couldn't bring herself to say goodbye to someone for the last time. Ron entered.

"Ron, I was thinking. I want both you and Harry to do the eulogy--"

He interrupted her with a pained look. "Hermione, there isn't going to be a eulogy, because there isn't going to be a funeral!" She collapsed onto him, trying to hold back sobs.

"I'm going to miss you, Ron."

Take my hand, precious Lord,  
Lead me home.


End file.
